


Rest for the Wicked

by Fyre



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 08:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19128274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: Some time after the Not-Quite-End of the World, Aziraphale discovers something he has never experienced before.





	Rest for the Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> This one was from a procrastination prompt on tumblr and I love how it turned out so I thought I'd put it here as well :)

Aziraphale stared at the ceiling for several minutes, taking stock of his surroundings.

Last thing he remembered, he and Crowley had been completely and delightfully drunk and sprawled out on the bed he kept for appearances’ sake. Never used it before, but Crowley insisted they should have a nice lie down until the world stopped spinning enough to get sober. He had vague recollections of Crowley wrestling his shoes off, swearing at the thinness of his laces. It had been dark then.

Now, a beam of sunlight was cutting across the room, high enough for him to know it had to be at least mid-morning.

There was also an arm around his middle and a face firmly burrowed into his belly.

Aziraphale peered down at the owner of the face. All he could see was the unruly shock of Crowley’s hair, even more mussed than usual. “Crowley,” he whispered as loudly as was polite. When that only made Crowley grumble and snugle closer, he gave the demon a sharp prod on the ear. “Crowley!”

Crowley’s head shot up. “Wha-? Whassamatter?”

“Something has happened.” Aziraphale waved around him. “It was dark a moment ago and now it’s light! I think we may have been drugged!”

Crowley squinted at him, then peered around the room. “S'morning.”

“Yes! And it was night only a moment ago!”

The demon scratched his fingers through his hair. “Yeah?”

“Yeah?” Aziraphale stared at him in astonishment. “Don’t you understand? We have _lost_ at least six hours of time! Aren’t you worried?”

Crowley’s face twisted up in confusion. “Lost? Don’t know about you, but I was sleeping until some bugger stuck his finger in my ear.”

Aziraphale sat up with an impatient sigh. “My dear fellow, maybe you like to sleep, but since I have never-”

“Yeah you did.”

Aziraphale blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Sleep.” Crowley waved vaguely to the pillows. “Out like a light when I was getting your shoes off.” He wrinkled his nose. “Y'snore like a bulldozer as well.”

For a moment, nothing made sense.

“But I _don’t_ sleep. I have never…”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Never? But sleep’s great!”

“I- well- there was just so much I wanted to do!” Aziraphale shook his head in confusion. “I was asleep? Really?”

The idiotic grin that crossed Crowley’s face bordered on the sentimental. “Yeah, you were.” He leaned closer, his eyes dancing. “You _spooned_ me.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks flamed with heat. “I _beg_ your pardon?”

“Mm.” Crowley was grinning even more widely now. “Spooned. Snuggled. Wrapped yourself around me like a bloody great snake.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You,” he said, tapping Aziraphale on the chest, “cuddled me.”

“But I-” Aziraphale’s hand twitched against his chest. “I wouldn’t!”

“Oh, but you did, angel.” Crowley was all teeth and glee. “And you _liked_ it.”

Aziraphale stared at him, then wailed, “I don’t remember any of this!” he eyed Crowley suspiciously, then wagged a finger in his face. “If you’re lying to me, _demon_ …”

To his surprise - and confusion - Crowley leaned right into the wagging finger until it pressed against his chest. “I don’t lie to you, angel.”

It was strange, Aziraphale thought dazedly, how easily Crowley could still turn his world on its head.

“Oh.”

“Mm.” Crowley placed his own hand on Aziraphale’s chest and pushed him firmly back against the pillows. “Now lie down. S'only nine. I want a couple more hours before I’m up and about.”

Aziraphale felt he should protest, but then Crowley coiled down beside him again, arms and legs wrapping warmly over Aziraphale’s body and limbs. It was odd how comforting it was, and how safe it felt. Hesitantly, he reached down, then gently brushed his fingers through Crowley’s hair.

“How does one… go about it?” he asked quietly.

“Hm?”

“Sleeping. I-” It was a stupid thing to be ignorant about. “I don’t know how to do it.”

Crowley lifted his head and smiled. “Just snuggle in and close your eyes. You’ll figure it out.”

Crowley’s hair was soft between his fingers, and his skin thrummed with heat against Aziraphale’s palm. “All right.”

As he closed his eyes, he felt Crowley wriggle up beside him and the warmth of breath on his throat as the demon nestled closer against him. “Night, angel,” the words were a whisper against his skin. “Sleep tight.”


End file.
